Loc: Uppers
to Middles
Crew:
Khang, J, Dais, Hideki, Al
Conditions:
3-4 FT+, glassy, low-mid tide,
consistent.
We are all ready to surf Churches. Al’s
just about ready to paddle out right here, right now. It’s because of the walk.
Uppers . . . it’s a journey.
“Let’s check it out further,” says Dais.
Even Khang, his other half, wants to paddle
out right here at Churches. Yes, there is a little crowd here, but it is
WORKING. I’m reluctant too, but . . . fuck it, why not. Al had said it was good
earlier.
North Middles is working all right. I kind
of want to paddle out here too. “If Uppers is no good, we can work our way back
here,” one says.
There’s a little break between Lowers and
Uppers that rarely works. I haven’t surfed this spot since the second time I
came to Trestles, and it was epic that day. Today . . . it’s showing some signs
of life. We stop short of Uppers. Of course, Al walks to the main peak. The low
tide makes the walk out a little rough. We’re all doing the cobblestone
boogaloo. I’m nervous to duckdive too deep since it’s so shallow. At the
lineup, the wind isn’t a factor. I can’t believe how smooth and glassy the
water’s surface is; it’s just surreal. No one else is around us either. Mental
note, low tide is good here. We can see Uppers breaking, giving long, clean
rights. It’s a little smaller here, but the conditions are so good, and we have
it all to ourselves. I turn to J and say, “What wind?” On the way over, the
onshores seemed like a problem, at least at Churches it was giving some kind of
chop, but here the wind is having no effect whatsoever.
The first set is a little walled, but then,
the peaks. . . Khang is the one to draw first blood. He disappears going right
and unleashes some nice spray. It’s not just him. J goes. Dais. We’re both scratching
for a right. He gets it. I back off. It’s so clean and down the line. When he
comes back I say, “Nostra-Daisus.” It’s a name I gave him a while back. I
forget the occasion, but he always chooses the right spot where to surf.
To describe the water today is hard. With
the sun at its height, still at mid level, its reflection on the water isn’t
gold yet, but more like a mustard color. The water is so glassy, and the low
tide gives the wave this unmolested, perfect, shouldery shape. It’s round but
not barreling, and it’s still fast. I go right and get a couple turns, but my
best waves are the lefts. On one, I practice a layback snap for my finishing
move. I’ve practiced it in the flats. My entry into the turn looks good, but I
haven’t figured out how to get the board back under my feet to ride out from the
turn, but it’s still fun.
Unfortunately, this window is a very short
one. Once the tide comes up a little, the place shuts down in the first hour.
We can either go to Uppers or go south to Lowers. By now, we’re spread out. I
sit just north of Lowers, hoping something will swing wide. . . Impossible.
Guys connect their rides all the way from the top of the wave, but . . . it is
a magnificent sight to see. I see this set, and it’s an easy six feet. Trust
me, I usually hold back on my estimations, and the size at Lowers is solid.
Guys take off on the set waves, steep,
nearly dropping in vertically, and then connecting the bottom turns to pump
down the line. I linger in this area but decide to side wide on the south side
by Middles.
A lot of guys are sitting here and for good
reason. Some waves are swinging wide. I catch two rights. They have good shape,
but by now I’m so done, just tired. I see Khang on the sand. He’s pushing out
with his hand, telling me to stay in, but I’m completely gassed. I split the
peak with a guy who goes right. I take the left in.
We walk back. Dais, J, Hideki, and Al are
somewhere, who knows where. At the campsite, J and Hideki are figuring out what
to do for food. Khang and I take showers. When I’m done, Dais arrives. There’s
still some daylight left since he had paddled out around 1600.
#
More people show up at night. Klaude
finally makes it. Cheryl brings Silverton, and they bring food with them. My buddy
Dan had stopped by and dropped off eggrolls and sandwiches. My other buddy Tim
arrives with two large pizzas from Costco. Boris shows up with more carne and tortillas. There is just so much food in
abundance. I’m stuffed. We all are.
We end the night sitting around the camp
fire. Junk is just everywhere, littered on the picnic table; there are chairs,
wetsuits, board, and surf paraphernalia. Sitting over the fire with a glazed
look on my face, I’m stoked that this trip is a success.
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